


Semaphore

by mtothedestiel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Cock Warming, Cooking, Did I Mention Praise Kink?, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Food Porn, Hand Feeding, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Painplay, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Safewords, Service Submission, Spanking, Sub Steve, Sub Steve Rogers, Subspace, Temperature Play, gentle dom Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtothedestiel/pseuds/mtothedestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Steve can't move on from the day's mission.  Bucky is the only one who can help him.  They've worked out a system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello readers! I've been cleaning out my WIP folder and I'm on a roll! I did some basic research writing this, and tried to keep everything safe and sane. Feel free to let me know if I've disregarded any important etiquette. Enjoy, and I look forward to your comments.

The door nearly slams as they stumble into their apartment, frustrated and battle weary.  Steve’s still got a smudge of ash on his face, and Bucky is gonna have to get his suit dry cleaned if he ever wants to get the alien blood out of it.  It’s been a long day, and Steve is still beating himself up over shit he had no control over. 

“We could have gotten the whole hive.”

“We stopped them,” Bucky reminds his partner, stripping off his gauntlets and vest, leaving them in a pile by the door, “Nobody got hurt.  That’s good enough for me.”

Steve’s still scowling, buzzing with anxious energy.  “Tell that to Natasha.”

“She’s not dead,” Bucky points out, “She sprained her wrist.  That’s like a paper cut to people like us.  You need to let it go.”

“I know I could have done more,” Steve grumbles, “I could’ve been _better_.  Next time…”

Bucky takes Steve’s hand, stopping his words with a look.  They learned to read signals from each other long ago.

“Will you cook tonight?” Bucky asks, and Steve’s face goes blank, his furrowed brow easing instantly.

“You askin’, Buck?” 

“I think you should.”

Bucky traces the pad of his thumb over Steve’s pulse point as his partner wars with himself, still struggling with what he feels are his own inadequacies.  He feels the exact moment Steve capitulates, and his heart rate picks up.

“Okay,” Steve agrees, “If you pick what we’re having.”  Another signal.

Bucky straightens, officially taking the weight of authority off Steve’s shoulders for the night.  Steve’s frame droops in relief.

“Are you gonna be good for me tonight?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, sir,” Steve answers, and it says something about how much he needs this that there’s not a hint of defiance in his voice.  Bucky releases Steve’s hand to offer his embrace.

Steve drops his shield and folds himself into Bucky’s waiting arms.  Despite still wearing his body armor from the day’s mission he’s totally pliant in Bucky’s hold.

“You did good today, Steve,” Bucky murmurs, stroking Steve’s hair for a moment before pulling back, keeping his hand firm on the nape of Steve’s neck, “You did real good.  Now we’re gonna focus on us for a little while.  Go get cleaned up, and I’ll have everything ready for you when you come back.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and he accepts Bucky’s kiss before making his way down the hall to their bedroom.

Bucky waits until he hears the shower start before moving into the kitchen.  “Cooking” isn’t just a euphemism.

Bucky had given Steve their first cookbook for his birthday.  It was an impulse buy at Barnes and Noble but given this new game they were playing it had seemed appropriate.  Steve had never blushed so red in front of the team but the long and private ‘thank you’ Bucky got later told him it was a good idea.

They’ve got a neat little row of them on their countertop now, from Julia Child to Alton Brown to Ming Sai.  Sometimes on stressful days Bucky catches Steve tracing the spines with his fingers, a smile curling the edges of his full pink mouth, and it puts a little blossom of warmth in his belly.

So Bucky flips through a few books, looking for something new, but not too adventurous, and gathers the ingredients, lining them up on the counter for Steve to prepare.  Luckily Stark Tower grocery service keeps their pantry well stocked. 

Steak.  Red Wine.  Asparagus and sweet potatoes, to be sliced up and roasted in the oven with sea salt and olive oil.  Good food after a long mission that will leave both men warm and full.  But not too full.  Steve needs more than dinner to help him let go of the day’s difficult decisions, and Bucky is here to provide.

Steve emerges a few minutes later, peeking over Bucky’s shoulder at the items waiting for him.  He’s barefoot, in soft sleep pants and a white tank top.  Bucky would have him bare, showing off his gorgeous body in their kitchen but that will have to wait until after dinner.  Bucky can be patient, too. 

Bucky points Steve to the open cook book on the counter, ready to take his own shower while Steve works.

“Set the table when you’re done,” Bucky instructs, dropping a kiss on Steve’s shoulder, “Just one plate.”

“Okay,” Steve responds, already studying the recipe intently.  The instructions aren’t difficult, but each step will need focus and skill.  Slicing, measuring, cooking to a certain temperature, Bucky chose a meal that will occupy Steve’s mind and keep him moving without too much pressure.  Steve is meant to succeed at the tasks Bucky places before him. 

Bucky pulls a small oven timer from the junk drawer, setting the dial for thirty minutes.

“I’ll be back when this goes off,” Bucky promises, setting the timer on the counter in front of Steve.  He strokes once up and down Steve’s back before heading for the master bathroom, stripping out of his filthy uniform with a sigh of relief.

Bucky scrubs off the sweat and grime of the day’s mission, letting the hot water ease his muscles and settle his mind.  It takes a disgusting amount of time for the water to run clear again.  Then he cleans the pipes, stroking himself to a quick and satisfying orgasm.  Tonight isn’t about him, it’s about Steve.  Taking care of himself ahead of time will keep Bucky focused and attentive to Steve’s needs rather than his own arousal. 

Twenty minutes later, Bucky returns to the kitchen with shower damp hair and a pair of padded restraints.  Steve is spooning sauce over a steaming plate at the table just as the timer goes off.  He turns expectantly, eyes lighting up when he sees that Bucky is there, just like he promised. 

“Smells good in here,” Bucky says, voice warm.  Steve’s eyes drop to the restraints in Bucky’s hand and he swallows, eager.  Steve puts the pans in the sink and then he sits in the empty chair where Bucky is waiting for him.  There’s a single place setting, the large plate filled with enough food for two.  Bucky pushes Steve in close to the table, then moves behind him, guiding Steve’s wrists into the padded cuffs.

“You can break these,” Bucky reminds Steve as he locks his boyfriend’s hands behind his back, looping the chain between the rungs of the kitchen chair, “Don’t.”

“Yes sir,” Steve agrees.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a few kisses to Steve’s greedy mouth before perching on the edge of the table, full dinner plate in hand.  He cuts into the steak first.  Steve’s wound like a spring, waiting for Bucky’s approval of his hard work.  He doesn’t wait long.

“Look at that,” Bucky says with pride, showing Steve the perfect pink center, “Medium rare.  Just right.”

Steve relaxes into the chair as Bucky takes the first bite.  Bucky closes his eyes, savoring the well cooked meat and the rich sauce that coats it.  The second bite he holds out carefully for Steve, who leans forward the barest inch to close his lips around Bucky’s fork.  Next they try the veggies, tender potatoes and crisp asparagus.  Bucky first, then Steve, meekly accepting bites off of Bucky’s plate.

“You’re so sweet, cooking for me.”  Bucky feeds Steve another bite of asparagus, then takes a bite of steak, humming appreciatively.  “Doing just as I asked.  Such a good job.”

Steve preens under the praise, eyes blown and muscles lax as Bucky feeds him until the plate is scraped clean.

“Still hungry?” Bucky asks, even though he’s had plenty.  They saw a lot of action today and sometimes Steve needs the extra calories.  But Steve shakes his head, with a soft content “No, sir.”

Bucky strokes his hand through Steve’s hair, a little reward for remembering Bucky’s title while they play. 

“What’s your color?”  Bucky always checks, before they move on to the next stage.  Steve smiles, nuzzling his face into Bucky’s hand.

“Green.”

Steve’s mouth is too tempting, and Bucky steals a kiss as he reaches around to release Steve’s hands where he’s restrained behind the chair.  Bucky carefully examines each link of the cuffs while Steve watches, looking for any joints that are broken or out of shape.  There’s not one.  The padded cuffs are as pristine as the day Bucky ordered them, which means Steve didn’t struggle in them at all.  Bucky rewards him with another kiss before ordering Steve to his feet.

Steve follows Bucky quietly into the living room.  Once they cross from linoleum to soft carpet he stops to undress completely, leaving his clothes in a neat pile on the end table.  Steve knows the rules.  He doesn’t wear clothes once they’re in the living room.  Bucky watches Steve shamelessly, admiring his taut muscles as he strips.  Steve’s uncharacteristic shyness when they play this game makes Bucky’s mouth water. 

Bucky takes both of Steve’s hands, moving him directly in front of the couch, the back of his calves almost touching the cushions.  Bucky wants to be able to reach him easily. 

“You made all the right decisions today, Steve,” Bucky informs him, guiding Steve to his knees, “That’s done.  Now I need you to focus for me.”

Steve nods, resting on his heels.  His posture is formal, like they’ve practiced together.  Back straight, shoulders back and loose.  Steve’s hands are open and waiting.

From a small pile of equipment by the television Bucky picks up a one hundred pound barbell plate.  It’s about one fifth of what he would press during a workout, so lifting it is no strain for Bucky.  The weight will barely register in Steve’s arms, but it will be enough to make staying in position the same effort it would take for a normal person holding nothing.  Steve could hold his pose for hours if Bucky didn’t modify the exercise.  Dehydration and fatigue are no object to Captain America.  

Steve takes the weight, holding it flat against his chest.  Once he approves his posture Bucky tips Steve’s chin up for a kiss. 

“Stay,” Bucky orders.  He takes his hands off Steve and settles behind him on the couch, turning on the television.  Bucky’s been marathoning _How It’s Made_ , and he chooses the next episode in the queue.  The soothing narration begins, and Bucky relaxes into the sofa, splitting his attention between the show and his partner. 

Bucky likes this show.  It satisfies his lifelong scientific curiosity, and it’s steady, calm tone settles him on rough days.  It doesn’t disrupt “quiet” nights either.  Bucky can keep a subtle eye on Steve, monitoring his breathing and form, and still learn about how plastic bottles are made.  It’s a nice way to spend an evening.

Halfway through a section on computer chips Bucky notices that Steve is struggling.  He’s shaking, holding his shoulders way too tight.  Bucky can see some of the muscles in Steve’s bare back twitch as he tenses, trying futilely to pull himself out of the bad headspace.  Bucky reacts, keeping his own movements slow and calm.  He starts with a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder.  Steve lets out a high, involuntary sound.

This happens sometimes.  Steve can’t let go of the fight from earlier, and the adrenaline catches up to him. 

There’s no punishment for Steve’s slip.  That’s not what this game is about.

“I’m here Steve.”

That always helps.  Sometimes that’s all it takes, when Steve spirals into self doubt and blame, is the sound of Bucky’s voice, or his touch.  Bucky is here with him because of the things Steve did _right._   It feels good to remind him of that.

“It’s okay,” Bucky coaxes, rubbing up and down Steve’s spine, slow and easy, “You can do this for me.  I know you can.  Go ahead and drop for me, baby.”

Bucky keeps stroking, murmuring endearments until Steve’s breathing goes deep and slow and his shaking tapers off.  His shoulders drop and his spine straightens.  Bucky leaves his hand on Steve’s back, grounding him as Steve sinks back into subspace.  Steve’s pulse is settling, and he’s correcting his posture without thinking.  Bucky knows if he were to get up right now to check that Steve’s eyes would be glassy and dilated. 

“Okay?”  Bucky asks once Steve is stable.  He gives the barest nod of his head, but this far gone Bucky needs a verbal answer.  Bucky moves his hand to the back of Steve’s neck, exerting the barest amount of pressure.  Not pinching, just reminding Steve of his presence.  He adds a firm edge to his next order.

“Give me your color, Steve.”

Steve whimpers, his fingers curled intimately around the rim of the weight.  “Green, sir.”

Bucky lets go of Steve’s neck in favor of dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair. 

“Good boy.”

Bucky keeps his hand in Steve’s hair, toying with the soft blond strands, through two more episodes.  Steve is finally out of his own head.  His only focus is on staying in position and the gentle touch of Bucky’s fingers.  What Bucky can see of Steve’s face is relaxed in a look of pure pleasure.  His eyes are hooded and there’s a light flush of arousal in his cheeks. 

When the credits roll on the next episode, Bucky turns the television off.  He stands, stretching out his own lazy muscles, before turning to face Steve.  Bucky gives Steve a kiss before taking the weight from his arms, placing it back in its stack by the TV.  Steve’s hands drop naturally to rest on top of his thighs.  His eyes flutter as Bucky rubs over his shoulders again before returning to his seat on the couch.

“Come up here, baby,” Bucky orders, and Steve rises from the floor to drape himself across Bucky’s lap.  Bucky arranges his partner, tucking Steve’s face into the crook of his neck and helping him stretch out his stiff knees.  Steve groans softly, his breath warm against Bucky’s sleep shirt as Bucky massages the soreness out of his legs, digging his fingers into knotted calf muscles.

“You’re doing so good,” Bucky praises when Steve is finally slumped against him, loose and boneless, “So good for me.” 

Steve is breathtakingly erotic; his naked form displayed against Bucky’s clothed one.  He’s hard, has been since Bucky started playing with his hair, even more so now after Bucky’s been holding him.  Bucky bends to suck a mark at the base of Steve’s throat, leaving a physical claim on his skin, at least for the next few hours.  When he latches his mouth to one of Steve’s nipples he spasms in Bucky’s arms, releasing a broken sound as Bucky sucks and bites the tight bud.  Steve does nothing but accept the touches where Bucky thinks he deserves them.  Soon most of Steve’s chest is covered in fading red marks.  His breathing is ragged and his face is beatific.

Bucky has to withhold his own groan when he finally takes hold of Steve’s cock.  He wastes no time jerking Steve off, jacking him with a firm grip.  Steve is already close to the edge, strung out from the long evening of play.               

 “Gorgeous, Steve,” Bucky breathes into his partner’s sweaty hair, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

Steve moans and whimpers, hand bunching tight in the soft material of Bucky’s shirt.

“Please,” he begs, straining against the urge to thrust into Bucky’s hand, “Please, sir, I gotta-ah-please…”

“Not til I say,” Bucky reminds him, loosening his grip on his partner’s cock until he’s back to a teasing slide.  Steve whines, but he nods his head emphatically.

“Not til you say,” he agrees, panting.

“Such a good boy,” Bucky praises, and Steve squirms in his lap, embarrassed and pleased. 

Giving his cock a rest, Bucky drags his fingers lower, tracing the seam of Steve’s balls with a light touch.  He knows from experience the conflicting arousal that comes with flesh warmed metal dragging against one of the most sensitive areas of your body.  Steve responds beautifully, groaning deep in his chest as Bucky rolls his tight, swollen sac in the palm of his hand.  Pre-come is beading at the head of Steve’s erection.  Steve kisses at Bucky’s neck where his face is still pressed.

He massages up and down Steve’s perineum with his metal thumb, stimulating the vulnerable skin until Steve jolts against him and Bucky knows he’s found Steve’s prostate.  His fingertip circles the spot, bearing down until Steve is a shaking, over-stimulated mess.

“Does it feel good?” Bucky asks, pressing just behind Steve’s balls where he’s most sensitive.

“So good,” Steve pants, “Feels _so_ good.”

“You deserve it, Stevie,” Bucky promises, stroking Steve’s cock again, “You deserve to feel good.  You deserve to be taken care of.  I love it when you let me take care of you, baby.”

Steve’s overwhelmed, gasping, and Bucky can feel a few fat tears soaking into his shirt where Steve’s hidden his face.

“Shh.  Look at me,” Bucky coaxes, then firmer, “Look at me, Steve.”

Steve meets Bucky’s eye with a heaving breath and damn if he isn’t the whole package, flushed and panting, with tears still hanging in his dark lashes.

“Pretty as a picture,” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve’s wet, slack mouth, “Wanna come, baby?”

Steve’s beyond words, he can only nod desperately as Bucky tightens his grip on his lover’s dripping cock, pressing his thumb to the sensitive bundle of nerves just under the head.

“Then come,” Bucky orders, “Any time you’re ready.  Let go, doll, I’ve got you.”

With Bucky’s permission it only takes a few more strokes before Steve goes rigid, curling into Bucky’s neck with a broken sob.  His dick twitches in Bucky’s hand and then he’s coming, coating Bucky’s fingers in hot streaks of white.  Bucky keeps moving until Steve is completely spent; his dick soft in Bucky’s hand.  Steve is shaking, eyes blank and far away as Bucky drops kisses all over his face.  Bucky doesn’t worry.  He just lays Steve out on the couch carefully, placing a cushion under his head and keeping up a constant murmur of praise and affectionate touches.

It takes a solid five minutes for Steve to come down, sharpness slowly returning to his gaze as Bucky holds his hand, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s pulse point.  Eventually he finds Bucky’s eye, grinning like a dope.

“Hi,” Steve slurs, long lashes fluttering.

“Hiya,” Bucky says back, stroking through Steve’s sweat damp hair, “You back with me?”

“Yeah.”  Steve’s voice cracks on his answer, and it’s adorable that that can still make him blush, after what they just did.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asks, rubbing over Steve’s limbs to feel for any knotted muscles or sore spots.  His examination yields nothing but a pliant, happy boyfriend.

“Feelin’ real good, Buck,” Steve mumbles, licking his lips with an endearing furrow in his brow, “A little thirsty, maybe.”

“I’ll get you some water,” Bucky promises, and Steve gives him a sleepy smile, nodding before curling into the couch cushions, “Stay here, okay?  I’ll be right back.”

“’Mkay.  ‘Love you.”

“’Love you too, Stevie.”

Bucky brings Steve a small glass of juice and a big glass of water, and Steve drains both eagerly.  Afterwards, he tugs Bucky down and they curl together on the couch.  Their legs hang off the edge of the cushions, and Steve can’t be that comfortable with Bucky’s left arm wedged under his ribcage, but Steve looks blissful, and frankly, it’s contagious.

They kiss, and kiss some more.  Bucky winds up lying against Steve’s chest, head tucked under his chin.  Steve’s limbs are loose and sleep heavy.

“You want to go to bed?” Bucky offers.  Steve’s heart beats slow and steady against his ear.

“Nah,” Steve says after a minute, picking up the remote, “Let’s watch one more episode.”

Bucky kisses the hollow of Steve’s throat.

“Sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell i'm a sucker for gentle!dom Bucky and blushy Steve?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A brief addition to Steve and Bucky's foray into dom/sub territory. I wrote this little drabble and this seemed like the best place to put it.

“Give me your color, Steve.”

“ _Unngghhh_ …g-green…”

 _Smack_.  The sound of Bucky’s metal palm striking the exposed flesh of Steve’s backside rings through their softly lit bedroom.  Steve chokes as pain lances up his spine and dissipates out to his extremities in tingling waves.  He’s white knuckling their reinforced headboard and his cock is throbbing between his legs.

Steve is completely bare, displayed on his knees for Bucky’s discipline.  Fuck, he’s _aching_.   

Cool metal fingers trace over the heated skin of Steve’s ass. 

“How many is that, baby?”

Steve pants, trying to shake the sweat out of his eyes.  He knows the count, but Bucky is being so goddamned _distracting_. 

Bucky’s teasing fingers turn sharp.  He pinches Steve’s reddened flesh and Steve cries out, a few tears adding to the salty sweat already staining his cheeks.

“How many?” Bucky demands.  Steve draws a shuddering breath. 

“Fi-fifteen,” he gasps, “Fifteen, sir.”

There’s a pause, and then Bucky returns to his delicate touches.  Steve moans when he feels the velvet press of Bucky’s lips to the bruise left behind on Steve’s cheek from his pinch.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises, reaching up to run his flesh hand through Steve’s hair, “That’s three sets of five, Steve.  You’re taking it so well.”

Steve’s sure his face is as red as his ass, flushed from Bucky’s praise.  It feels so good.

“Do you want to come, baby?” Bucky voice is so soft.  So sweet.  Steve nods, breath hitching.  His hips rut into the open air, hopelessly searching for friction against his dripping cock.

“I know you do,” Bucky croons, stroking over Steve’s chest and belly, _so_ close to where Steve really wants Bucky’s hand, “But you can’t.  Not yet.”

Steve sobs his frustration, even as his blood sings from the sweet pain still radiating from his ass.  Bucky’s hand drops back to Steve’s sore backside.  Steve can feel every microscopic divot and seam of the metal appendage.  They scream against his sensitive nerve endings.

“Do you know why you’re not allowed to come?” 

Steve nods again.  He knows. 

“Because I still have five more.”

“You still have five more,” Bucky confirms, “Why is that, baby?”

Steve draws a shaking breath. 

“Because I took that electro shock blast that was aimed at Thor.” 

“That’s right.  And did you need to do that?”

Steve grits his teeth, but Bucky’s grip on his ass tightens in warning and he releases his breath with a whimper.

“No.”

Damn it, Steve doesn’t even know how Bucky _saw_ that.  He was sure his partner was on the other side of the Rockefeller Center when he’d taken that alien taser to the chest, but somehow Bucky always knows.  Bucky never forgets, and the fear, the worry that it brings, they play it out here, in their safe space.  Five strokes for every time Steve puts himself in unnecessary danger.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, pressing kisses to Steve’s tearstained cheeks, “So good for me.”

Steve leans into Bucky’s touch as much as he can without compromising his posture, greedy for contact.  Bucky smiles against Steve’s sweaty temple before withdrawing.  He drags one metal fingertip down the line of Steve’s spine and grabs a handful of his ass.  The short break has only heightened Steve’s sensitivity and he moans as pain and pleasure blur.

“Ready for more, baby?”

Steve nods.  He can hear the murmured “ _good boy_ ” before Bucky’s hands leave him.  Steve lets his head drop and focuses on keeping his muscles loose.    

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

_…Smack._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will steve come untouched just from those last five spankings??? The world may never know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for this.

“Can I suck you, please, sir?”

“You know the rules, Steve. You come or I do.”

“Yes, sir. Want you in my mouth.”

“Okay, baby. Go get me your restraints. Let’s see if you can be a good boy for me and maybe I’ll let you make me come.”

That was forty minutes ago.

Steve is on his knees, hands interlocked behind his back in order to avoid damaging the delicate chain of the padded cuffs that bind him. He’s slouched forward between Bucky’s thighs, chest pressed into the sofa cushions. His forehead rests just below Bucky’s navel.   Bucky strokes his fingers idly through Steve’s hair while he watches whatever DIY program was next in his Netflix queue.

In his mouth Steve holds Bucky’s half hard cock.

Steve breathes through his nose, deep and slow. It’s the only movement that he’s allowed. The waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants is tucked under his chin. It takes some of the strain off his neck but other than that it’s Steve’s responsibility to keep still and to keep Bucky’s cock warm and wet.

The position is strange and he’s feeling his muscles burn in odd places. His jaw aches and Steve is so tempted to use his tongue, to lick and suck at the cock keeping his mouth full, but he won’t. Bucky wants him to be good.

Steve can be good.

At some point Bucky even drapes one of his thighs over Steve’s shoulder, sighing in contentment as he resettles in Steve’s mouth. Steve holds his posture, even when Bucky nudges at his bound hands with his sock foot. He dares to send a dry glance upward, only to blush when he catches Bucky staring down at him, his smile warm and fond.

“Good boy,” Bucky tells him softly. Steve drops his eyes back down, cheeks warm.

Eventually the heat of Steve’s mouth coaxes Bucky to full hardness, even though Steve was being good and still. At one hour Bucky turns off the television, patting Steve’s cheek as he drops the remote on the carpet.

“Let go,” Bucky commands, and Steve carefully releases Bucky cock from his mouth. Bucky strokes himself lightly while Steve watches.

“Do you want to make me come, Steve?”

Steve nods eagerly. He _really_ wants it. His mouth feels strange and empty after being full for so long. Steve wants Bucky filling him up and coming inside him.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises him, stroking through Steve’s hair again, “Do you want to suck me by yourself or do you want me to use you?”

“Mm…use me,” Steve decides after a ponderous moment of thought. Bucky’s hand shifts from his hair to the back of his neck and Steve shivers, a smile curling his mouth.

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, “Open up, baby.”

Steve gladly opens his mouth wide. Bucky rests the head of his dick on Steve’s waiting tongue before he starts to apply pressure to the back of Steve’s neck, urging him forward and pushing his cock into Steve’s mouth. Steve does his best to keep his lips tight and let Bucky move him up and down his length.

“ _Fuck_ , you take it so good, Stevie,” Bucky mutters, metal arm whirring as he coaxes Steve further onto his cock. Steve can only gag softly as the head of Bucky’s dick reaches the back of his throat and beyond. His eyes blur with tears and his shoulders bunch as he struggles not to strain the fragile restraints at his wrists.

“All the way, baby. You can do it.” Bucky nudges his hips forward, holding Steve in place as he forces his cock in that last spare inch until Steve is pressed flush to Bucky’s lower belly.

Bucky only allows him a few seconds to adjust. Steve is still swallowing convulsively around the thick cock in his throat when Bucky begins to fuck him, bracing his hand on the back of Steve’s head and working his hips in a steady grinding rhythm.

“There you go,” Bucky coaxes him, grunting as he works Steve on his cock, “Suck me. Show me how much you love it.”

Steve can barely move with Bucky holding him in place, but he gives it everything he’s got. He sucks, licks, and hums, stars blinking in his vision as Bucky uses him. He’s completely in Bucky’s control, and he happily takes what he’s given.

When Bucky comes, Steve’s the one who moans.

His throat is working furiously around the head of Bucky’s dick, swallowing everything. Bucky is still thrusting against Steve’s face, short fucks that keep his cock bouncing against the back of Steve’s throat, challenging his gag reflex, but Steve doesn’t let a drop of come spill past his lips.

When Bucky finally eases him off his cock, Steve chokes and gasps, lungs pumping in air he didn’t realize he had been denied. It’s a euphoric rush of oxygen to his bloodstream. He lets his weight fall forward, head and neck limp against Bucky’s inner thigh. His partner’s softening dick is a bare inch from his lips.

“Fuck, Stevie, you’re so good,” Bucky praises him breathlessly, still coming down from his orgasm. Steve presses a wet, sloppy kiss to the head of Bucky’s spent cock. He dips his tongue into the slit, gently sucking up the leftover traces of come from the length of him until Bucky pushes his mouth away and tucks himself back into his pants.

Steve pants, blood rushing in his ears. It’s an overwhelming sound in the quiet room.

“Are you still hard, baby?”

Steve nods, hiding his face against Bucky’s thigh. His neglected cock is throbbing, his whole body flushed with arousal after being used so thoroughly.

“You remember what we agreed,” Bucky reminds him gently, and Steve nods again, a pathetic whine escaping his lips. He got to have Bucky’s cock, and that means no coming tonight.

“I know,” Bucky commiserates, still stroking Steve’s hair, “You did so well. Would you like me to help you settle down?”

“Please,” Steve begs, spreading his knees where they still press into the carpet. It leaves his hard cock hanging in the empty air, free from any tempting friction.

“Okay,” Bucky says, tipping up Steve’s chin and kissing his mouth, “Wait here.”

Bucky carefully rests Steve’s head on the couch cushion and disappears into the kitchen. Over his racing heart and his ragged breathing Steve can hear the open and shut of the freezer door. Bucky returns in only a few seconds. He almost never leaves Steve alone when they play.

Bucky tosses something onto the sofa and kneels behind Steve. He kisses the back of his neck, then unlocks Steve’s cuffs. Steve lets his hands fall to the tops of his thighs while Bucky checks the links of the chain for damage. Another kiss to the back of his neck tells Steve he didn’t strain the cuffs at all while he was being fucked, and he feels a little wiggle of pride.

Bucky drops the restraints onto the carpet, and returns to his seat on the couch.

“Up,” Bucky orders, and Steve crawls onto the sofa and into Bucky’s lap. Bucky pets his belly and thighs, skirting his erection deliberately. Still, the soft touches set Steve buzzing, and he nuzzles Bucky’s t-shirt.

Steve nearly forgets his arousal until he spies a white package waiting on the couch. Bucky sees where Steve’s gaze goes and he takes his hand off of Steve, reaching for the icepack he’d pulled from the freezer.

“Let’s take care of you, hm?”

Steve whimpers, curling in on himself in Bucky’s lap. Bucky tuts.

“I thought you wanted my help,” he says, frowning.

Steve feels a hot lick of shame, and he immediately uncurls his legs, hiding his face against Bucky’s chest.

“I do,” Steve replies, voice muffled against Bucky’s shirt, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Bucky takes the wrapped ice pack in his right hand. Steve can feel the air cooling between Bucky’s hand and his throbbing cock.

“Ask me, Stevie.”

“Help me,” Steve entreats, swallowing, “Please help me settle down, sir.”

"Color?"

Steve takes a deep breath.

"Green."

Bucky kisses Steve’s forehead and applies the ice pack to Steve’s groin.

Bucky presses the cold pack down gently, and Steve hisses as the chill hits his genitals. The ice pack is wrapped in a soft dishcloth, but that doesn’t stop the cold from wilting his erection in record time.

Steve shudders as the freezing cold saturates his balls and his arousal drains away.

“Shh,” Bucky hushes, dropping kisses over Steve’s fluttering stomach, “You’re being so good for me. Almost done.”

Steve shivers, but he doesn’t try to wriggle away or protect his vulnerable undercarriage from the frigid temperature. He’s being good. Bucky isn’t hurting him, he’s helping him, _taking care of him_ , and Steve feels so loved. He’s safe, floating in a warm place despite the cold.

“Th-thank you,” Steve breathes. The words are slow to fall from his mouth, strung out like honey from a spoon. “Thank you, s-sir.”

Bucky inhales sharply, and he leaves the cold pack resting against Steve’s groin to run his fingers though Steve’s hair. His hand is chilled from holding the ice, but it soon warms to Steve’s flesh. Steve smiles and preens, leaning into Bucky’s touch. When he casts his gaze upward, Bucky’s eyes are wet, but he’s glowing with pride.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby,” Bucky murmurs, kissing his face, “So sweet and beautiful. I love you so much.”

Steve sighs happily and drifts, allowing the glow of Bucky’s praise to carry him away.

For a time there is only bliss, Bucky’s hands, and the thudding of his own heart.

When Steve is next aware the ice pack is gone. There’s a glass of water and a steaming mug of tea waiting for him on the coffee table. He’s bundled in a thick flannel duvet, tucked in close against Bucky’s chest. Steve loses himself for another few minutes to the hypnotic rise and fall of Bucky’s breathing.

Eventually his surroundings begin to come back into focus. Little details sharpen amid the fuzzy haze of subspace. Bucky’s right hand stroking up and down his belly. Soft flannel catching on the calluses on Steve’s feet. A slight ache in his lower back from kneeling so long earlier that night.

Bucky’s still holding him tight. In between kisses to the back of his neck he can hear Bucky’s murmured “’love you…love you, baby.”

Steve rests his hand over Bucky’s where it wraps around his middle. He tucks their feet together inside the duvet and shuffles even closer to his boyfriend. He is so, so warm.

“Buck?”

Bucky is still dragging his metal fingers through Steve’s hair. It leaves his scalp tingling and helps buoy him up to the surface.

“Yeah, Stevie?”

“I love you, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little something I've affectionately been calling "slow cooker"

“Everything is in the crock pot-“

“I know.”

“I think I added enough salt but you might want to taste it later-“

“I know it’ll be good.”

“And the timer should be set to start automatically at three but if it _doesn’t-“_

Steve is on his way to the press office for a full day of interviews.  If Bucky didn’t know how genuinely anxious Steve was about being in the public eye his nervous babbling would be adorable.

“I’m going to take care of it,” Bucky promises, holding Steve’s face in his hands, “Just like I take care of you.”

Steve smiles, covering Bucky’s hands with his own. 

“Okay.”

“Good.”  Bucky pats Steve’s cheek before handing him his lunch and his papers for the day.  “Dinner will be on the table when you get home.  Now scoot.”

Steve has a sparkle of mischief in his eye when he replies with an emphatic “Yes _sir_.”

~

Warm, fall scents begin to emanate from the kitchen around four thirty, and Bucky smiles.  Steve will be home soon.

Bucky sets one plate next to the slow cooker and leaves Steve’s restraints hanging over their usual kitchen chair.    He lays an extra fleece throw over the back of the couch and a bottle of water on the side table, just in case.   

Bucky slips a bottle of lube in between the couch cushion and the armrest, and then returns to the paperwork he’d been working on and waits for Steve.

~

When Bucky opens the door at five fifteen Steve is already tugging off his tie.

“How did it go?”

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, pupils dilating.  Bucky draws him into their apartment.

“Not even a little bit.”

~

Steve eats pieces of apple and sweet potato from Bucky’s hand and moans when Bucky lets him lick the juices from between his fingers. 

“Good boy,” Bucky praises him.  When the apples are gone they move on to the pork chops.

“You did such a good job,” Bucky says, and Steve beams.

~

Steve lays across Bucky’s lap, beautiful and bare.  Bucky strokes his belly and thighs, skirting his hardening cock.

“Say it,” Bucky orders, gentle but firm, “Tell me how good you are.”

“I-I’m good.”  Steve’s voice is barely a whisper.  A heady flush blooms in his cheeks, and spreads downwards.

“You’re such a good boy.”

“I’m so good,” Steve breathes, “I’m such a good boy.”

“ _My_ good boy.”

Steve’s breath hitches and a beatific grin curls his lips.

“I’m _your_ good boy,” he repeats, gazing up at Bucky with complete adoration.

“Look at you,” Bucky praises him, “All pretty and pink for me.  You’re so pretty, Stevie.”

Steve doesn’t make a sound but Bucky watches his mouth shape the words.  _I’m pretty_.

“So pretty,” Bucky says again.  He kisses Steve’s mouth, his cheeks, all the way down his neck to his flushed chest.

~

“I’m so hard,” Steve confides in a whisper, curled around Bucky some minutes later, “I’m so hard for you, sir.”

“I know you are,” Bucky replies, teasing him with lube slick fingers.  Steve splays his thighs obscenely to make room and Bucky pushes inside him, slow and steady.  Steve gasps, tense, and then yields just as quickly.

“ _Oh,_ ” Steve breathes, and Bucky hooks his fingers to find Steve’s prostate, “Oh, _please-“_

Steve’s cock is red and dripping as Bucky fucks him.

“You can come,” Bucky says, “Come any time you like, baby.  Just like this.”

Steve shakes his head, eyes glazed.  “I-I can’t,” he protests, squirming on Bucky’s fingers.

“You can,” Bucky promises, “My good boy.”

Bucky digs into Steve’s prostate and he wails, coming in a few short spurts over his belly.  Bucky presses another kiss to Steve’s heaving chest.

“My pretty baby.”

~

They stretch out on the sofa after, Steve a warm weight against Bucky’s shoulder, a blanket over his bare lap.  He sips water while Bucky cuts up an extra apple, dipping slices into the peanut butter jar held between his knees before passing them to Steve, who munches contentedly, blissed out and loose.

“That was a good one,” Steve murmurs, soft and sleep heavy.  Bucky feeds him another bite of apple.

“It’s always good, baby,” Bucky promises, kissing the top of Steve’s head, “It’s always been good.”


End file.
